(Trust me guys, Remus would listen to it if he was polish)
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Hi! Welcome to my blog :) My pronouns are she/her and i'm 20, 🇵🇱
English isn't my first language, so my works might have some mistakes – punctuation, grammar, etc. I try my best not to make them/correct them as quickly as I can, but sometimes it's just impossible, so please keep it in mind while reading!
When it comes to the Harry Potter franchise, I must mention that I don't support J.K. Rowling in any way.
Let's not give transphobes money and fame they don't deserve. No trans child, teenager, or adult deserves the suffering she has inflicted on them with her disgusting actions. If you really want to read the HP books, please buy them second-hand! Try not to buy HP merch or visit themed parks. It all brings her financial gain, and with that, she's actively trying to take away trans people's rights. Protect trans kids.
Also, I won't accept any form of bigotry here.
That includes transphobia, homophobia, racism, ableism, sexism, misogyny, and any other form of prejudice towards people you can come up with.
My main goal on this blog is to make everyone feel comfortable and safe, no matter who they are.
+fuck ai :) it sucks! I'm not here to judge, but if you don't have to, it's better not to use it, especially if you are a writer or any other type of artist! It destroys the environment, and again, gives money to people who don't deserve it and don't need more than they already have. Obviously, there's way more disadvantages to ai than i mentioned. Because of that, it's best you go educate yourself on this topic. It's really important to stay informed these days!
Anyway, here's my masterlist 𓂃✍︎
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Masterlist:
Characters i've already written for:
Harry Potter ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
☆ Remus Lupin:
One shots:
▪︎ "Costume Party" ▪︎ "Jealousy, Jealousy" Part 1 ☆ Part 2
▪︎ "I love you, I'm sorry" ▪︎ "When i close my eyes"
▪︎ "Don't marry him" ▪︎ "Happy New Year, honey"
▪︎ "I could be a good mother" ▪︎ "Ruined Valentine's Day"
▪︎ "A new addition to the family" ▪︎ "Just a bad dream"
▪︎ "I'll leave the porch light on" ▪︎ "Don't go where I can't follow" part one ☆ part two ☆ part three ▪︎ "Endure" 18+ ▪︎ "Quietly in love" "the other woman" 18+
Series:
▪︎ "I'll wait until you come back" Prologue Chapter one
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☆ Harry James Potter:
▪︎ "Lost match, mild concussion" ▪︎ "Make you mine" ▪︎ "It's not your fault"
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☆ James Fleamont Potter:
▪︎ "Thank you for the music, for giving it to me" ▪︎ "Do you hate what you see like I do?" ▪︎ "Lights off" ▪︎ "You called, I came"
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☆ Sirius Black:
Nothing yet...
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☆ George Weasley:
▪︎ "Bony-limped, red-faced, teary-eyed"
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The Last of Us ᖭ༏ᖫ
☆ Joel Miller:
▪︎ "Is it really over?" pt. 1 ☆ pt. 2 ▪︎ "I only pray, don't fall away from me" ▪︎ "Need someone"
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Avatar: the last airbender ༄
☆ Sokka:
▪︎ "delirious" ▪︎ "morning practice"
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Characters i might write for in the future (probably very far future):
Summary: Yoga has become a habit for you. It's something you do for both relaxation and strength, not wanting to lag behind your more powerful friends. You usually do it alone, right before your friends wake up. You're suprised, then, when Sokka decides to join your practice. And annoy you, as he usually does.
English isn't my first language! Not proofread.
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A little story written in one sitting again, so don't expect anything amazing from it haha
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The only sounds that accompany your morning training session are the chirping of the birds, rustling of the trees, and the river flowing. But most importantly, the quiet snoring of your friends – Aang, Katara and Sokka – sleeping soundly in their sleeping bags nearby. If not for them, you certainly wouldn't feel so safe in the middle of the big, quite dark forest, with no powers, and only a small knife to protect yourself.
Yoga, as you learned to call this practice during your visit in one of the foreign cities, is something you do every morning, right before everyone wakes up, to keep yourself strong and not lag behind your more powerful friends – an airbender and a waterbender. Obviously, you're not the only one without magic powers. There's also Sokka, but with his fighting skills, he's still so much better than you.
You always practice alone and this morning it isn't any different.
You don't expect any company, so when you hear a sudden crunch, most likely a twig breaking under the weight of shoes, you freeze with your right leg pressed to the inside of your left thigh and hands clasped together at the heart level.
"Um..." a murmur. "Are you comfortable like that?"
Sokka.
You're so suprised you immediately lose your focus, as well as your balance – your leg slides down your thigh, and if it wasn't for Sokka's strong hands catching your arm, you'd fall into the water flowing steadily down below.
"Thanks." You breath out as you regain your balance. Sokka lets go of your arm with the faintest blush on his face. "How long have you been awake?"
Sokka shrugs. "Five minutes? Maybe ten."
You groan. "Oh my gosh, Sokka, don't tell me you've been watching me practice."
It wouldn't be an exasperation to say that Sokka looks like a tomato right now.
Extremely red. Extremely guilty.
"Creep." You murmur when he remains silent for longer than he probably should've. "If you ogle me like that again–"
"Hey! I wasn't ogling you!" Sokka tries to defend himself, although poorly. "I was just...admiring, okay?"
Your eyebrows shot up. "Admiring?"
Sokka nods vehemently. "Yeah. I've never seen...whatever you were doing."
"It's called yoga, Sokka." You explain. "I imagine you've never tried it, given how, hm, impulsive you are."
Sokka grimaces. "What's that supposed to mean, huh?"
You smirk. "Nothing. You can just never stay still and be quiet for a moment, can you?"
Sokka looks quite offended. "Try me, then. Teach me one of your...poses."
You nod, pleased with yourself – you know Sokka would never pass up a chance to prove you wrong.
He follows you to your practice spot without a word. As you stand arm to arm and leg to leg, you realise how hard it might actually be to teach him something. He's not stupid by any means, no. He's just goofing around too much. And complaining, that too.
"Okay, so..." you breathe out. "We're gonna start with something easy to get you used to being still and quiet. A mountain pose. We're gonna do it for five minutes."
Sokka murmurs something along the lines of how hard it might be to stay still and quiet? What a nonsense, but you choose to ignore it.
"First, straighten your spine. Keep your arms by your sides." Again, Sokka complies without a word. His hands are tightly curled into fists, which isn't exactly what you're looking for, so you advise. "Don't curl your hands, Sokka, keep them open."
Sokka huffs, but does what you say anyway.
"Now, close your eyes. Breathe in and out. Connect with yourself."
Barely a minute of silence passes before Sokka speaks up, interrupting your practice once more.
"Are we done? I'm bored." He complains. "Something bit me, i can tell. My leg itches."
You roll your eyes. "Do you want to learn or not?"
"I do, but–"
"Then shut up."
This successfully shuts him up. He corrects his posture, opens his hands, closes his eyes. There's a funny grimace on his face, but other than that, he's doing pretty good.
It's blissfully quiet – just you, your practice and the calming sounds of forest – until Sokka decides to ruin it all again. This time, he lasted two minutes. One minute more than before.
"That's boring." He murmus to himself. "And stupid. So stupid. Why would anyone want to stand in silence for five minutes?"
You can't stand it any longer. You really can't. What was supposed to be a nice, energising practice turned into this mess, all thanks to Sokka.
"I thought Aang was bad at it, but you're even worse!" You snap despite your usual perfect self control.
Sokka looks at you – eyes-wide, lips slightly parted – before a goofy smile crosses his lips. You know, just by this look, that he is going to say something absurd in a second.
"So you taught Aang before, hm?"
You shake your head. "You're so annoying, Sokka."
"I'm just asking! Is there anything wrong in being curious?"
You pick up your water sack and coat from the ground and turn around, ready to walk away. There's a knife in the back pocket of your trousers, just in case anything unwanted happens while you're on your own.
Sokka's smile immediately fades. He knows he has gone a bit too far. "Hey, where are you going?"
"For a walk. Far away from you." You grumble. You don't wait for his response. Instead, you wander away, not even looking back to check his reaction.
He has really gotten on your nerves today – like never before, and it's not even his the most annoying behaviour. He can be so much worse when he wants to.
"Wait, Y/N." His voice reaches your ears. "I'm sorry for teasing you!"
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When you come back from your small walk, five or seven minutes later, Aang and Katara are not only awake, but also watching Sokka as he...does the mountain pose.
Eyes closed, palms open, perfect posture. Just like you instructed.
It's so quiet you could hear the pin drop.
"What have you done to my brother, y/n?" Katara asks. Both she and Aang are trying to hold back laughter.
"I have no idea." You murmur, surprised beyond belief, watching as Sokka breathes deeply. "Trust me, i don't."
idk if it's interesting to see the canvas stats too?
it says 15 hours in the stats, but that's because i was drawing while watching a movie in bed and then fell asleep with my ipad still on lol. i've also turned off auto-lock on my ipad, so procreate just happily kept tracking time while i was unconscious. the timelapse is 8.5 hours, which is how long i actually spent drawing
Summary: Sokka is sick. Katara is not feeling her best. Aang set off in search of a medicine. Long story short, you're left alone with a not so smart lemur, a huge bison, and one particularly delirious boy and his sister.
English isn't my first language!
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First time writing for both Sokka and ATLA #scared 😬 i've watched ATLA as a kid (probably some reruns on TV), and now I'm rewatching it, which means i don't remember anything beyond first season, so my Sokka and Katara might be totally out of character. Also, I wrote it in one sitting (that's why it's short), didn't really proofread it, so don't expect anything good from it haha. Still, i'd appreciate some feedback!
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"I'll be back soon." Aang promises and soon enough, before you can respond or hurry him up, he's gone. A wave of cold air hits your face as he takes off.
He'll be fine one part of your brain reassures.
But Sokka won't if he doesn't get any medicine soon the other part of your brain, the menacing one, convinces.
His pained groans are a perfect reminder of it.
Your eyes meet Katara's. They're a reflection of yours – terrified and unsure. Neither of you know what will come next. Sokka's babbling only gets worse – more delirious with every passing moment. On top of that, he's dehydrated and shivering from cold, despite the thick coat he has on.
And well, that's not even the worst thing. Katara's coughing, too, and you know that she'll be in the same state as her brother soon. Too soon. You'll be left alone with two very sick people. No water, no medicine.
Where are you, Aang?
"Let me." You say to Katara, taking a small cloth from her hand. She wants to protest, you can tell – after all, that's her brother we're talking about – but you give her a reassuring smile and she eventually backs down.
You take Katara's place in front of Sokka. The cold tiles hurt your knees, Momo climbs up your right arm, and cold wind bites into the uncovered skin of your face, but you pay it no mind, focusing on the sick boy in front of you.Your friend. At least that's what you think he's to you. Or rather, you try to convince yourself of it.
Sokka comes around when he sees you. A lopsided smile appears on his face. "What's your name, gorgeous?"
"You know my name, Sokka." You smile, even though it's a strained smile, as you wipe off sweat that has gathered on his pale forehead. Not long after, his face is damp again.
Sokka shakes his head. "No, i don't." He insists. His hand raises, then falls back down, before raising again and getting hold of yours. You gasp in surprise.
"What are you doing?" You ask. Katara coughs once more, but you don't know if she's actually getting worse or just trying to stop Sokka's delirious shenanigans.
"Your name, gorgeous. What is it?" He questions again. He brings your hand closer to his face, turns it from left to right, traces the lines on your palm with the highest interest.
It feels oddly intimate, but you don't let your long suppressed feelings for him take over. He's sick. He doesn't know what he's doing, what kind of effect he has on you with his silly words and innocent touches.
Sokka doesn't wait for your response, though – it seems he has already forgotten that he "doesn't" know your name. He lets go of your hand, leaving behind a weirdly unpleasant, cold feeling.
"I'm a earthbender. did you know that?" He smiles proudly a moment later.
"Sokka, you're not a earthbender." You reason with him.
Frankly, he looks quite offended at your words. "Of course i am. Let me show you."
He raises his hands and does some odd movements that look nothing like earthbending, all while looking at you with anticipation.
"Great, right?" Sokka prompts, looking all smug. "I'm the best earthbender on this planet."
You shake your head with resignation. "Sure you are."
Sokka puffs up with pride at your "confirmation" of his skills – you can also hear him whispering something to Appa, convinced the bison is talking back to him – but you're not looking at him anymore. Your attention is focused on Katara, who looks weaker and weaker with every moment. Beads of sweat roll down her forehead, her lips are dry and cracked.
Please, Aang. We don't have much time.
"Are you my girlfriend, gorgeous?"
Your attention is pulled back to Sokka. Your heart starts beating just a bit faster at his question – my God, he's just your friend. You shouldn't be reacting like this to his sick ramblings. Yet, it makes you feel all fuzzy inside.
And just slightly sad you're not actually together.
"No, Sokka. I am your friend. You are my friend."
Sokka's lips turn downwards in a pitiful smile. Oh, Sokka. Don't do this to me. You think to yourself.
"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" He asks hopefully. His blue eyes are huge, pupils dilated, as he stares at you.
"Sokka, Y/N doesn't want to be your girlfriend." Katara chimes in despite being on her last legs and for the first time in your life, you are grateful for her witty way of being.
"But why..." Sokka moans. "Appa says we'd make a great couple. Right, big boy?" He glances at the animal beside him, which looks like it wants nothing to do with him. "I've always known you are my best friend, Appa."
You shake your head. Katara looks at you pleadingly.
"Can you get us some water? I'm so thirsty..."
You catch the water sack she throws your way. You shake it – it's depressingly empty. Not a single drop of liquid left.
"Will you be fine, Katara? I don't want to leave you two all alone here." You ask anxiously.
Katara nods. "I'm not that sick, Y/N. Just hurry."
You have no choice. If you want to keep them awake for a bit longer, you need to do what she says.
You get up from the floor, determined to find some water and help Sokka and Katara. Momo crawls up your leg, then arm, and eventually settles on your shoulder. You pat his head – he might not be the smartest, but it's good to have a companion other than your sick, delirious friends.
"Hey!" Sokka suddenly exclaims. "Why are you leaving us, gorgeous?"
You sigh. "I'll be back soon, Sokka."
But just as you are about to leave for your hunt for water, a voice resonates through the room.
Aang.
"I've got it!"
You've been through a lot together, way more than regular fifteen year olds – and Aang, of course – but this moment is one of the happiest of your life. You swear it is.
"Oh, finally!" You're so excited you can't stop yourself from giving Aang a kiss on the cheek. It makes the boy blush. "Thank you, Aang."
Sokka yelps. "That's your boyfriend?!"
Both of you laugh – you from relief that has washed over you, and Aang from sheer confusion.
Summary: Sokka is sick. Katara is not feeling her best. Aang set off in search of a medicine. Long story short, you're left alone with a not so smart lemur, a huge bison, and one particularly delirious boy and his sister.
English isn't my first language!
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First time writing for both Sokka and ATLA #scared 😬 i've watched ATLA as a kid (probably some reruns on TV), and now I'm rewatching it, which means i don't remember anything beyond first season, so my Sokka and Katara might be totally out of character. Also, I wrote it in one sitting (that's why it's short), didn't really proofread it, so don't expect anything good from it haha. Still, i'd appreciate some feedback!
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"I'll be back soon." Aang promises and soon enough, before you can respond or hurry him up, he's gone. A wave of cold air hits your face as he takes off.
He'll be fine one part of your brain reassures.
But Sokka won't if he doesn't get any medicine soon the other part of your brain, the menacing one, convinces.
His pained groans are a perfect reminder of it.
Your eyes meet Katara's. They're a reflection of yours – terrified and unsure. Neither of you know what will come next. Sokka's babbling only gets worse – more delirious with every passing moment. On top of that, he's dehydrated and shivering from cold, despite the thick coat he has on.
And well, that's not even the worst thing. Katara's coughing, too, and you know that she'll be in the same state as her brother soon. Too soon. You'll be left alone with two very sick people. No water, no medicine.
Where are you, Aang?
"Let me." You say to Katara, taking a small cloth from her hand. She wants to protest, you can tell – after all, that's her brother we're talking about – but you give her a reassuring smile and she eventually backs down.
You take Katara's place in front of Sokka. The cold tiles hurt your knees, Momo climbs up your right arm, and cold wind bites into the uncovered skin of your face, but you pay it no mind, focusing on the sick boy in front of you.Your friend. At least that's what you think he's to you. Or rather, you try to convince yourself of it.
Sokka comes around when he sees you. A lopsided smile appears on his face. "What's your name, gorgeous?"
"You know my name, Sokka." You smile, even though it's a strained smile, as you wipe off sweat that has gathered on his pale forehead. Not long after, his face is damp again.
Sokka shakes his head. "No, i don't." He insists. His hand raises, then falls back down, before raising again and getting hold of yours. You gasp in surprise.
"What are you doing?" You ask. Katara coughs once more, but you don't know if she's actually getting worse or just trying to stop Sokka's delirious shenanigans.
"Your name, gorgeous. What is it?" He questions again. He brings your hand closer to his face, turns it from left to right, traces the lines on your palm with the highest interest.
It feels oddly intimate, but you don't let your long suppressed feelings for him take over. He's sick. He doesn't know what he's doing, what kind of effect he has on you with his silly words and innocent touches.
Sokka doesn't wait for your response, though – it seems he has already forgotten that he "doesn't" know your name. He lets go of your hand, leaving behind a weirdly unpleasant, cold feeling.
"I'm a earthbender. did you know that?" He smiles proudly a moment later.
"Sokka, you're not a earthbender." You reason with him.
Frankly, he looks quite offended at your words. "Of course i am. Let me show you."
He raises his hands and does some odd movements that look nothing like earthbending, all while looking at you with anticipation.
"Great, right?" Sokka prompts, looking all smug. "I'm the best earthbender on this planet."
You shake your head with resignation. "Sure you are."
Sokka puffs up with pride at your "confirmation" of his skills – you can also hear him whispering something to Appa, convinced the bison is talking back to him – but you're not looking at him anymore. Your attention is focused on Katara, who looks weaker and weaker with every moment. Beads of sweat roll down her forehead, her lips are dry and cracked.
Please, Aang. We don't have much time.
"Are you my girlfriend, gorgeous?"
Your attention is pulled back to Sokka. Your heart starts beating just a bit faster at his question – my God, he's just your friend. You shouldn't be reacting like this to his sick ramblings. Yet, it makes you feel all fuzzy inside.
And just slightly sad you're not actually together.
"No, Sokka. I am your friend. You are my friend."
Sokka's lips turn downwards in a pitiful smile. Oh, Sokka. Don't do this to me. You think to yourself.
"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" He asks hopefully. His blue eyes are huge, pupils dilated, as he stares at you.
"Sokka, Y/N doesn't want to be your girlfriend." Katara chimes in despite being on her last legs and for the first time in your life, you are grateful for her witty way of being.
"But why..." Sokka moans. "Appa says we'd make a great couple. Right, big boy?" He glances at the animal beside him, which looks like it wants nothing to do with him. "I've always known you are my best friend, Appa."
You shake your head. Katara looks at you pleadingly.
"Can you get us some water? I'm so thirsty..."
You catch the water sack she throws your way. You shake it – it's depressingly empty. Not a single drop of liquid left.
"Will you be fine, Katara? I don't want to leave you two all alone here." You ask anxiously.
Katara nods. "I'm not that sick, Y/N. Just hurry."
You have no choice. If you want to keep them awake for a bit longer, you need to do what she says.
You get up from the floor, determined to find some water and help Sokka and Katara. Momo crawls up your leg, then arm, and eventually settles on your shoulder. You pat his head – he might not be the smartest, but it's good to have a companion other than your sick, delirious friends.
"Hey!" Sokka suddenly exclaims. "Why are you leaving us, gorgeous?"
You sigh. "I'll be back soon, Sokka."
But just as you are about to leave for your hunt for water, a voice resonates through the room.
Aang.
"I've got it!"
You've been through a lot together, way more than regular fifteen year olds – and Aang, of course – but this moment is one of the happiest of your life. You swear it is.
"Oh, finally!" You're so excited you can't stop yourself from giving Aang a kiss on the cheek. It makes the boy blush. "Thank you, Aang."
Sokka yelps. "That's your boyfriend?!"
Both of you laugh – you from relief that has washed over you, and Aang from sheer confusion.
Summary: It's a day like any other at work. Nothing out of ordinary. That is until a cute – and as you later find out, Deaf – guy comes up to the counter and orders Caffè Mocha. Since that moment, a beautiful friendship – and maybe even something more – forms.
English isn't my first language. Not proofread.
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I'm so scared to post it, guys...
First of all, i want you to know that i did my research – i've read articles written by Deaf people, i've watched videos made by Deaf people, i consulted my hard of hearing friend. My goal here wasn't to make fun or represent anyone in a bad way, you have to trust me. If it's written badly, if it's not accurate at all, please let me know and I'll take my fic down.
All the dialogues in "..." (i don't remember what it is called lol) are either mouthed by Remus, said by reader, or signed by both of them. Dialogue written like this is messages written in Remus' notebook. I hope these instructions are clear enough haha. Ending is kinda rushed, I'm sorry for it!
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The first time you meet – monday
It's a day like any other at work.
Taking orders from customers. Making coffee. Slicing cake. Cleaning.
Nothing out of ordinary.
You're not surprised, then, when a young man comes up to the counter and smiles at you politely.
What catches you off guard, though, is when he starts signing. Something simple – good morning or hello, maybe – but to be honest, you've never learnt basics of sign language, so you have no idea what exactly he is saying.
And, despite it not really being your fault, you feel incredibly stupid.
You give him an apologetic smile and mouth a remorseful "I'm sorry." He waves his hand in the air with a small smile and slides a tiny note across the table.
I'm deaf. I'd like a Caffè Mocha. To go. Cheers.
with a mini smiley face right next to it.
You look up at him – he's pretty, you have to admit – and nod with a smile. He smiles right back, running his hand through his mousy brown hair. He has dimples on both sides of his mouth, and freckles littered all over his face, you notice. Cute.
You charge him before turning around and starting to make his coffee. You can feel him gazing at you, but you try to ignore it as you move from step to step, preparing his drink.
It's early, around 7 or 8 am, so apart from him, there are only two university students in the café. An ABBA song plays in the background, but you're too aware of his eyes following you to catch any of the lyrics.
You pray he doesn't see it as you pull out your phone and type how to sign bye and have a nice day in bsl in the browser. You scroll through hundreds of results until you find an appropriate video.
A deaf woman named Kate, as she introduces herself, shows you how to bid someone farewell. You follow her a couple of times, and when you finally feel confident enough, with a paper cup in your hand, you go back to the counter where he still waits.
You put the cup in front of him.
Smiling, a bit flustered, you sign bye and have a nice day to him. It feels weird – you're moving from sign to sign slowly and clumsily, taking small breaks between every of them to think about your next move. You make a mistake once or twice, but you quickly correct it, hoping it didn't completely change the meaning, and you didn't, let's say, offend him.
His face lights up, and he smiles – a full teeth grin. His hand wrapes around the plastic cup with Mocha Caffè, hot and aromatic, and he brings it to his mouth. He takes a sip - there's pure bliss on his face as he tastes it.
Your face, on the other hand, burns – you can tell even without touching your cheeks. Warmth spreads over your ears and down your neck. You resist the urge to cover up.
He brings his open palm to his chin and then slowly pulls it away. You think it means "thank you," but what do you know, really?
With another grin, he mirrors your bye, and with that, he's gone, leaving behind a pleasant smile of coffee and some nice cologne.
You feel giddy for the rest of the day, recounting this encounter to anyone who's willing to listen.
Since that moment, he has become a regular at your coffee shop.
And you?
You decided to learn some basics, just to be able to communicate with him.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
You know he's here even before you see him – it's his cologne that is so familiar to you.
You wish you could help the excitement that bubbles inside of you at the thought of him and, most importantly, what you're going to show him – you're practically buzzing with happiness, but you're trying so hard not to let it show. You don't want to scare him away.
First, he raps his fingers against the counter.
Then, he takes notice of the brown counter bell you bought and put on display – specifically for him and any other Deaf people that may need it. It makes him smile. How thoughtful of you.
He presses it gently, and it rings quietly.
Even though you knew he's here even before he pressed the bell, you pretend to be surprised when you turn around and your eyes lock. You'd make a great actresses, really.
"Hi." he signs.
"Hello." You sign back.
He's about to slide the note with his order across the table, just like he did the first time, and the four times after that, but you stop him by mouthing wait.
With your pointer and middle finger, you sign the word name. Then, you point at yourself. Using the sign language alphabet, you spell out your name.
You had exactly five days to learn how to do it. Each evening, right after your shift, you'd open your laptop and immerse yourself in learning - video after video, tutorial after tutorial - so much that your tea has long gone cold and the sun has already set behind the window.
But it paid off - he smiles so widely that you wonder if his mouth doesn't hurt.
"I like it." He's a thoughtful man, so he moves his hands slowly, so you can understand.
And you do understand – it makes you so proud of yourself that you can't stop a goofy smile from spreading across your face.
He points at himself. R e m u s.
And just like that, with a few simple signs and smiles, you get acquainted with each other.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Remus doesn't show up for the whole day which, truthfully, makes you worried. Sure, it's not like he has to drink coffee everyday. He shouldn't if he doesn't want to go bankrupt anyway - you love your job, there's no doubt about it, but the prices here are a real rip-off.
Still, it doesn't stop you from overthinking. Plus, you feel a tiny bit embarassed. Have you really developed a crush on a random guy who decided to come to your coffe shop every day? A cute guy, sure, but just a guy nonetheless. He shouldn't have such effect on you.
You're screwed, you know it very well.
But there's still work to be done. With a heavy sigh, you start cleaning the coffee machine.
The task is monotonous, you're knackered, and you can barely keep your eyes open, so when someone starts knocking on the door, you almost get a heart attack. Alarmed, with a damp cloth in hand, you turn around. And here he is - the guy you've been waiting for the whole day.
At your sight, he smiles and you know you're done for.
☕︎☕︎☕︎
As you unlock the door, his hand immediately flies to your bicep. He moves it down your skin, to the inside of your elbow and over the pulse point on your wrist. When he reaches your hand, curled tightly into a fist, he stops. Your eyes meet. You hold your breath, both surprised and intimidated by his closeness and the warm touch of his fingers on your bare skin.
"Sorry for coming so late." Remus mouths slowly. He lets go of your hand, just for a second, to sign along with his words.
"It's okay." You say. His eyes follow every move, every even the tiniest twitch of your mouth as you form your next question. "You alright?"
Remus nods. He points at you with his index finger as a way of asking You?
"I'm fine." You hesitate for a second or two before adding. "I've been waiting for you the whole day."
"I'm sorry." He apologizes again as he touches each one of your knuckles tenderly. Too tenderly considering how short you've known each other.
Then, so slowly you have to remind yourself to breathe again, he uncurls your fingers and places something on your palm. A crumbled piece of paper. His number. You look up at him.
"Text me." Remus adds. You watch the movement of his hands, trying to, although unsuccessfully, to memorize it. You fish an old receipt out of your jeans pocket and scribble down your own number before pushing it into his hand.
The dishwasher quietens, the sound of glasses and plates being taken out follows. Soon, your shift supervisor emerges from the back room, carrying clean dishes in her hands, about to put them back in the cupboards. She freezes when she sees Remus.
"Y/N, wha'ts going on here?" She asks, both alarmed and confused. "And who's that?"
"That's my...uh...friend. He was just dropping by."
"You know very well you can't let anyone in after hours." Julie, your supervisor, grimaces. "Do you want me to report you for not following the rules?"
"No, of course not! I'm sorry. It won't happen again, promise." You smile weakly. "He's leaving anyway."
"Seems like he have already left." She smirks, not cruel, but also not kind. You turn around, just to see that he's, indeed, already out of the coffee shop and heading towards the bus stop.
Your phone beeps, signaling a new notification. You, as discreetly as it is possible, take it out and check the message you've got. It comes from an unknown number, but you know it's him.
Unknown: I'm sorry for leaving without a word. I hope i didn't cause you any trouble.
You save his contact as Remus. Nothing crazy.
You: you didn't. Julie can be a real bitch when she wants to
Remus: 😂
Julie's voice resonates through the room again. "Go back to work! It won't do itself!"
You sigh, putting into that as much annoyance as it is possible. Julie, to your already huge frustration, speaks up once more. "Chop chop, Y/N. I'm not planning on staying here the whole night."
You: i have to go. Julie's bitching again lol
You put your phone back in your pocket and muttering a frustrated 'fuck off, Julie' you go back behind the counter and resume cleaning the coffee machine.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Your eyes water from how intensely you are staring at your laptop's screen, but you don't dare look away from the video you're watching - another bsl tutorial. This time, it's how to ask about someone's wellbeing and possible responses to that.
That is until you get a new message. You grab your phone so fast you almost knock a cup of tea off the table. Your cat, which has been lying on your lap, growls with discontent. Can it be him?
It's indeed him.
Remus: You up?
Just be casual, you think to yourself, he can't know you have a stupid, teenage-like crush on him.
You: Yep. I'm studying
Remus: What are you studying?
You snap a photo of your laptop's screen and send it to him. You chew on your lower lip as you wait for the response. Too eager?
Your phone beeps, and you almost drop it.
Remus: Smart girl
Lord, have mercy because this man definitely will be the death of you.
Remus: I think i wanna marry you
Three dots appear on the screen again, then vanish. You can feel your hands sweat and your heart beat abnormally fast in anticipation.
It's a joke, right? It has to be a joke. He's just taking the piss and it doesn't mean anything.
But gosh, you actually hope it means he fancies or at least starts to fancy you, too.
Remus: Whoops. Didn't mean to send this.
Three seconds later, another message comes through.
Remus: Was it weird?
You start to write a message, then quickly delete it - everything sounds too stupid to send. You do it for at least three or four times before deciding to be brave and settling on:
You: Not at all. Is it weird that I'm trying to learn bsl for you?
Remus: That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me actually.
Remus: you're cute
You: I like you
You: I wanna be with you
Ugh, you have really fallen head over heals for him.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
It's barely 7am when the bell above the door rings, and he walks in. You stop wiping the counter and turn around.
You exchange greetings – in sign language, of course – and Remus, as you learnt during one of his visits, takes a seat at the nearby table. He doesn't usually do it, most of the time taking the coffee to go, so it's nice to see. He's facing away from you, so you can't see his face - only the back of his head, full of curls and his quite muscular arms. He has a tattoo on his forearm, a small moon surrounded by tiny stars, you notice just now.
You watch in the corner of your eye as he takes a book out of his backpack and opens it. It's tattered and coffee stained, but he doesn't seem like a person who really cares about the state of his belongings. Next, he takes out a notebook and a pen – for you and him to communicate. You both agreed that writing your thoughts down will be the best way for you to communicate with each other. For now, at least.
You haven't learnt that much of sign language yet – some basics like greetings, wellbeing, orders – but it's enough and definitely worth learning if it makes him smile.
Once his coffee is ready – Mocha, as usual – you approach the table where he sits, completely engrossed in his book. You put the mug down and gently knock on the table to get his attention. When he looks up, you sign here you go, and he signs thank you, smiling at you so gently your heart flutters.
And Oh God, are those butterflies you feel in your belly?
Remus picks up the pen and quickly jots something down. He turns the notebook towards you.
Sit with me?
You look around, unsure. It's still just you and him, but what if someone comes to the coffee shop and finds you chatting with a customer instead of working? It'd be incredibly unprofessional and would surely get you scolded or worse, reported to the boss.
When you stay quiet, he scribbles something down again.
Just for a few minutes. Please?
His gentle smile and his big brown eyes do it for you, and you nod, resigned. Remus smiles with satisfaction and pulls out a chair for you. You sit down across from him.
"How are you?" You ask.
"Alright." He responds. "You?"
"Same."
That's where your sign language skills end, so you reach for his notebook. Do you have classes today?
Remus shakes his head. Nope. Got something in mind?
You hesitate as you get ahold of pen again – it feels quite silly to exchange notes like that. It reminds you of your high school days where you'd take turns with your friends, either making silly drawings or passing each other notes under the table.
I thought we could go out
No. Too bold.
Coffee date?
Even worse.
Then, an idea stricks you.
Maybe we could meet after my shift and you could teach more signs. Are you up to it?
You slide the notebook across the table. Remus reads what you wrote, then lifts his head. Your eyes meet, and Remus signs yes.
The bell above the door rings again, announcing another customer. Your conversation ends quicker than you expected, but hey, you've just got yourself something alike to date.
You can't stop grinning as you come back behind the counter.
☕︎☕︎☕︎
It's still light outside when you end your shift and clock out. You put your hair up and push the door open with your hip.
Remus sits on the bench with a book in his hand – the one he read earlier. Next to him is a bag and two plastic cups. Tea and biscuits, you assume. You've known him for barely two weeks, but you've already learnt that if there is something he loves more than Mocha Caffè then it's tea and biscuits.
You approach him and nudge his shoe with yours to catch his attention. Remus closes his book, stands up, and gathers his things.
You don't sign anything, and neither does he. Words aren't needed.
You link your arms and head towards the nearby park.
☕︎☕︎☕︎
The sun pleasantly warms your shoulders as you sit on the bench in the park. Remus gives you a cup of tea, as you suspected, and a chocolate chip cookie. You sign thank you.
That's my favourite he writes in his notebook as he takes a bite from his cookie. What would you like to learn? He adds.
What's better to learn than some curses?
"What about...bloody hell?"
Remus shakes his head with a smile. I should've expected this from you.
"Hey!" You elbow him, and he just laughs. It's loud and cheerful, so unfiltered it makes you smile yourself. You wish he could hear his own laugh and know how lovely it is. "So...?" You prompt. Remus turns the page of his notebook.
Bloody hell it is then.
You silly girl.
If he reached out and touched your face, he'd feel how hot your cheeks are at the moment.
It's hard to look both at his hands and lips, especially when they look so kissable, but you're managing it pretty well.
Bloody hell turns out to be easier than you expected. Not necessarily easy since sign language is an entirely new thing for you, but definitely easier than all the languages you have tried and failed to learn in the past.
And Remus, besides being charming and smart, is also a great teacher.
"Stop faffing around." Remus scolds you playfully as you try to sign another curse and mess up again – not because you can't do it. You're doing it because you want to see his smile, and his smile is nice. Lovely, really. "You're an awful student, do you realise that?"
"I'm not!" You protest, but you quickly break into laughter. Remus waits patiently for you to calm down, and when you finally do, he scoots closer.
The last remnants of laugh and words you were going to say die on your tongue as his hands, incredibly gently, take hold of your wrists. For the entire time, Remus keeps eye contact with you, almost like he's checking if you're alright with what he's doing.
"Let's forget about curses for a moment, yeah?" He says, and you nod, speechless – it's like you've lost control of your own body.
Even when he lets go of your wrists, you stay still, waiting for whatever he's going to do next.
You don't have to wait for long.
Remus points at himself. I okay, that's what you understand. Then, he places his palm flatly on his chest. Finally, he points at you.
That you surely haven't learnt yet.
His mouth is closed, he doesn't mouth what he's signing like he usually does, so you're really clueless.
You furrow your eyebrows, and Remus smiles knowingly. You ask. "What does it mean?"
He shakes his head, confusing you even further. He grabs the notebook, scribbles something down, and shows you the page with only one sentence on it.
I'll tell you when the time's right.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
You've thought it would never happen and you were just being delusional. Or worse, he was just being kind and not flirting with you at all. But, like many times before, you were mistaken - Remus, the cute guy you decided to learn a whole new language for, asked you out on a date.
And is now standing in the middle of your small, cluttered living room, looking very handsome in a brown jacket and with a bouqet of lovely flowers in hand.
If you've ever thought that maybe Remus isn't the boy for you, your cat's reaction proves, one more time, that you were mistaken.
She's rubbing against his leg, asking for pats and cuddles, and you almost feel jealous because that's still your kitty. He coos to her, she purrs, and you swear you want to marry him here and now.
You really need to get a grip on yourself.
His questioning gaze meets your dreamy one, and he points at the flowers.
"Oh yeah." You murmur, suddenly flustered, as you rush towards him and take the bouquet from his hands. "Thank you."
You look down at the bouquet, more to avoid his piercing gaze than to actually admire the flowers. You can't do that for long, though. Remus' hand, adorned with freckles and small scars, travels to your face and gently, painfully so, touches your cheek. You shudder, just a little. If he wasn't looking at you so intensly, he wouldn't notice it at all.
His hazel eyes are warm when you look up at him.
"I can't talk with you if you're not looking at me." Remus smiles, but there's sadness in it. "I need to see your lips, lovely."
"Sorry." You apologise guiltily. Remus cups your chin in his hand. It's warm against your cool skin. "They're beautiful."
Remus brightens up again. His gaze moves down your body, subtly but noticeably, as he admires your outfit.
"You look beautiful." His thumb grazes your lower lip. You look away, but he only moves your face back towards him. "You are beautiful. Magnificent. The most gorgeous woman i've seen."
"Don't." Your gaze falls on his lips as you feel too flustered to look him in the eyes. "I'm not."
"But you are." Remus insists. He's being serious, you can tell by the firm expression on his face. He doesn't say anything out loud, only signs and mouths, but the message is clear. "You're bloody beautiful."
"Okay, charmer, i need to put these in a vase and get my purse before we go." You change the topic, and Remus lets you. He steps back, letting his hand graze your bare arm for the last time, and you do the same.
You can feel his eyes following you as you leave the room and head to the kitchen to fill up the vase with water.
☕︎☕︎☕︎
When you come back to the room, Remus is looking through the books on your shelf, running his fingers along the spines with care, like they're something sacred. You turn the light on and off a couple of times to let him know you're back.
He turns around. Your kitty is in his arms, snuggling to him like she has always belonged there. She purrs when he scratches her between the ears. You raise your eyebrows, and Remus gives you a goofy smile.
"Not my fault."
You don't know of who you should feel more jealous – Remus because your kitty seems to take quite a liking to him or her because you'd like to be the one in his arms.
☕︎☕︎☕︎
The candles between you illuminate Remus' handsome face. All of it - scars, freckles, dimples. You don't know where these thoughs are coming from, but the urge to reach for him and kiss every freckle and each one of his scars grows stronger with every passing minute of silence that has settled between you.
"What?" A flick of his pointer finger and a confused expression on his face.
Gentle music in the background. Chatter of other customers. Empty plates on the table. Half full glasses of red wine. His hand, pale and covered in scars next to the bottle, his fingertips grazing yours.
"Nothing." A quick movement of your hands. "You wanted to tell me something, didn't you?"
Remus nods, inhales deeply and exhales slowly, rolls his shoulders twice.
You start to get impatient. You can barely handle the growing tension, the seriousness of this moment.
Then, he smiles. And after that, he does something you don't expect - signs the same words he did on your first date. This time, though, he mouths along with it, and you can clearly read his lips.
"I like you."
You look at him – wide-eyed, lips parted – and Remus smiles. First, tentatively. Then, the longer you stay quiet, just looking at him, his smiles slowly disappears. He glances away, fidgets in his chair. The music around you, so delicate and sensual, becomes unbearable and you're glad he can't hear it.
When he looks at you again, about to raise his hand and sign something, probably I'm sorry or forget about it you grab his hand.
It's Remus' turn to be shocked and your turn to smile.
"I like you too, Remus." You haven't practised these signs before, but they come to you easily, like it all was meant to be from the very start of your relationship.
Remus can't help but beam.
"What now?" Remus asks, still stunned, but slowly coming around. He looks at your hand, which envelops his again. He runs his thumb along your skin, slowly but tenderly.
"Now...i guess we're boyfriend and girlfriend."
"I like that." His smile widens even further. "Though it didn't go quite as i wanted."
"No?" You ask. "How did you wanted it to go, then?"
"I wanted to take you on a walk after dinner...buy you some flowers." Remus admits sheepishly and looks to the side, his freckled cheeks getting red. "I guess I'm just too impulsive."
You shake your head. "I don't need any of it, Remus. I'm just glad you confessed."
"And i'm glad you feel the same."
Your wine glasses clink as you raise them to make a toast. Long candles cast shadows on both of your faces, your eyes meet above the rims, your lips stretch out in joyful smiles.
You're happy, you really are.
Remus admires you as you take a sip of your wine, unable to stop grinning, so unbelievably in love – he doesn't think he has ever been so in love with anyone.
"What?" You move your pointer finger from side to side, your free hand still closed around the glass, your eyebrows furrowed.
Summary: Remus moans other woman's name during sex.
MDNI 18+ (please and thank you!)
Cw: hurt/no comfort, no happy ending.
English isn't my first language! All fanarts belong to sophithil. Not proofread.
﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒
I wrote it in 20 minutes, so it's short and it might not be my best work 😬 it's also my second time writing something similar to smut, so...but whatever, I'm just happy i have the motivation to write again haha. I'd appreciate any kind of feedback! If you notice any mistakes (because I noticed two...only five hours after posting this 😭) please let me know!
────୨ৎ────
"Mhm, right here." You breathe out as Remus changes the angle, driving into you deeper, hitting that spot inside you perfectly.
Remus' fingers are imprinted on the skin of your hips in a jarring red colour. He gasps at the sight of it, but isn't able to say anything, maybe apologise, as the pleasure intensifies. His eyes snap shut, his body tenses up. He has to physically force himself to slow down, to prolong it, to wait for you.
Your hands come up to his forearms, his scarred skin sweaty and hot under your fingers, as you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to orgasm.
"Honey, i can't–" Remus moans, loud and unfiltered. He opens his eyes to look at you, but he doesn't get the chance to do it as his whole body convulses right in that moment, making them roll back into his skull. He breathes out harshly, then gasps, finally moans. "Fucking hell...mhm, Dora..."
Your body tenses, but it has nothing to do with cumming.
Remus' eyes flutter open, wide and terrified, and his movements come to a sudden halt. Instead of saying anything, you put your hands on his hips and calmly, weirdly so considering your predicament, push him back. Remus pulls out with an audible hiss. Body fluids stain the sheets underneath you, but he pays it no mind.
What the fuck has he just done?
Instead of reaching for a tissue or a cloth to clean himself up, he reaches for you.
But you're already standing up and wobbly moving away from him. You stand by the window, looking out of it, fighting with tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks.
"Honey..." Remus tries. He wants to come closer, but stays rooted in his place instead.
"Were you thinking of her the whole time?" You ask quietly.
"Darling, what?" He sounds dangerously close to crying as he inquires.
"Just answer my question, Remus. Were you thinking of Nymphadora while fucking me?"
"No!" Remus quickly denies. "Of course not. I was thinking of you. Only you."
"Well, it didn't sound like it, did it? Moaning other woman's name."
"Sweetie...i don't know what came over me. It doesn't justify it, i know, but it wasn't intentional. It just...happened." Remus feels pathetic. So incredibly pathetic. If he was you, he would never, ever believe his words.
Silence stretches between you, uncomfortable and charged with tension. Tears start rolling down Remus' cheeks and he feels even more pathetic – he has no reason to cry, has he? But for the first time in a very long time, he feels scared. Scared of losing you because of one stupid mistake.
"You still think of her, don't you?"
It's safe to say Remus is taken aback by your question. You can't be serious. You just can't. But before he can deny again, you add.
"I found your letters, Remus. I know you're still talking with each other."
Remus's shoulders slump. He closes his eyes, then rubs his forehead, defeated. There's no point in denying the obvious truth anymore, is it?
"Yes." He admits. "We do. But it's nothing serious. We're just friends."
"Didn't you think it'd be nice to tell me you're still in touch with your ex?"
"I didn't think it mattered–" Remus tries and fails to defend himself.
"Of course it matters, Remus." You snap, turning around. Tears roll down your cheeks, too, but beneath all this sadness and shock, there is also anger and disappointment.
And in that moment, Remus hates himself. More than ever before.
You continue. "Have you ever seen me writing letters to my ex behind your back?"
Remus shakes his head.
"Exactly." You murmur. You throw your hands in the air and Remus flinches despite how far you're are from each other. "Fucking hell, Remus, you know about every single letter i write. About every single person i hang out with."
Remus head hangs low as he listens to your monologue.
You scoff. "But no, you didn't think it'd be nice to tell me. Why would it be?"
Remus doesn't try again. He knows he's in the wrong here. He knows how much he has fucked it all up. He just wonders how one amazing evening could changed to a such disaster – and maybe lead to an end of your relationship.
"And you know what? I think you're pathetic." Remus' head jerks up. You smile nastily – it doesn't feel good to be cruel, not at all, but you're so hurt by what he has done, so deep in your own pain, that you don't give a shit. "Yes, you heard me right. You're pathetic. And maybe next time we're fucking i should moan Sirius' name, what do you think?"
Remus shakes his head in disbelief. "You don't mean that, Y/N. You're just hurt and you have every right to be–"
I read the other woman just now and you asked for feedback so I'm tentatively offering you one. The smut writing was really really good I thought. I would just add to the content warnings hurt/no comfort and unhappy ending. Because the ending was very upsetting and some people (like me) would probably want to skip it. besides that you did a really good job writing it. <3
Thank you so much for sending an ask with feedback, I appreciate it! Smut is not really my thing and I'm always afraid of writing it because i don't want it to sound cringe/unrealistic, so your words mean the world to me 🫶🏻 Also, thank you so much for pointing this warning thing out. I didn't really think of adding it to my story and now i know i should have. I'll edit my post right away. And i'm sorry the ending made you upset :( trust me, it wasn't my intention. But once again and i know I'm repeating myself haha, thank you for reading and for leaving some helfpul feedback ❤️
Summary: Remus moans other woman's name during sex.
MDNI 18+ (please and thank you!)
Cw: hurt/no comfort, no happy ending.
English isn't my first language! All fanarts belong to sophithil. Not proofread.
﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒
I wrote it in 20 minutes, so it's short and it might not be my best work 😬 it's also my second time writing something similar to smut, so...but whatever, I'm just happy i have the motivation to write again haha. I'd appreciate any kind of feedback! If you notice any mistakes (because I noticed two...only five hours after posting this 😭) please let me know!
────୨ৎ────
"Mhm, right here." You breathe out as Remus changes the angle, driving into you deeper, hitting that spot inside you perfectly.
Remus' fingers are imprinted on the skin of your hips in a jarring red colour. He gasps at the sight of it, but isn't able to say anything, maybe apologise, as the pleasure intensifies. His eyes snap shut, his body tenses up. He has to physically force himself to slow down, to prolong it, to wait for you.
Your hands come up to his forearms, his scarred skin sweaty and hot under your fingers, as you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to orgasm.
"Honey, i can't–" Remus moans, loud and unfiltered. He opens his eyes to look at you, but he doesn't get the chance to do it as his whole body convulses right in that moment, making them roll back into his skull. He breathes out harshly, then gasps, finally moans. "Fucking hell...mhm, Dora..."
Your body tenses, but it has nothing to do with cumming.
Remus' eyes flutter open, wide and terrified, and his movements come to a sudden halt. Instead of saying anything, you put your hands on his hips and calmly, weirdly so considering your predicament, push him back. Remus pulls out with an audible hiss. Body fluids stain the sheets underneath you, but he pays it no mind.
What the fuck has he just done?
Instead of reaching for a tissue or a cloth to clean himself up, he reaches for you.
But you're already standing up and wobbly moving away from him. You stand by the window, looking out of it, fighting with tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks.
"Honey..." Remus tries. He wants to come closer, but stays rooted in his place instead.
"Were you thinking of her the whole time?" You ask quietly.
"Darling, what?" He sounds dangerously close to crying as he inquires.
"Just answer my question, Remus. Were you thinking of Nymphadora while fucking me?"
"No!" Remus quickly denies. "Of course not. I was thinking of you. Only you."
"Well, it didn't sound like it, did it? Moaning other woman's name."
"Sweetie...i don't know what came over me. It doesn't justify it, i know, but it wasn't intentional. It just...happened." Remus feels pathetic. So incredibly pathetic. If he was you, he would never, ever believe his words.
Silence stretches between you, uncomfortable and charged with tension. Tears start rolling down Remus' cheeks and he feels even more pathetic – he has no reason to cry, has he? But for the first time in a very long time, he feels scared. Scared of losing you because of one stupid mistake.
"You still think of her, don't you?"
It's safe to say Remus is taken aback by your question. You can't be serious. You just can't. But before he can deny again, you add.
"I found your letters, Remus. I know you're still talking with each other."
Remus's shoulders slump. He closes his eyes, then rubs his forehead, defeated. There's no point in denying the obvious truth anymore, is it?
"Yes." He admits. "We do. But it's nothing serious. We're just friends."
"Didn't you think it'd be nice to tell me you're still in touch with your ex?"
"I didn't think it mattered–" Remus tries and fails to defend himself.
"Of course it matters, Remus." You snap, turning around. Tears roll down your cheeks, too, but beneath all this sadness and shock, there is also anger and disappointment.
And in that moment, Remus hates himself. More than ever before.
You continue. "Have you ever seen me writing letters to my ex behind your back?"
Remus shakes his head.
"Exactly." You murmur. You throw your hands in the air and Remus flinches despite how far you're are from each other. "Fucking hell, Remus, you know about every single letter i write. About every single person i hang out with."
Remus head hangs low as he listens to your monologue.
You scoff. "But no, you didn't think it'd be nice to tell me. Why would it be?"
Remus doesn't try again. He knows he's in the wrong here. He knows how much he has fucked it all up. He just wonders how one amazing evening could changed to a such disaster – and maybe lead to an end of your relationship.
"And you know what? I think you're pathetic." Remus' head jerks up. You smile nastily – it doesn't feel good to be cruel, not at all, but you're so hurt by what he has done, so deep in your own pain, that you don't give a shit. "Yes, you heard me right. You're pathetic. And maybe next time we're fucking i should moan Sirius' name, what do you think?"
Remus shakes his head in disbelief. "You don't mean that, Y/N. You're just hurt and you have every right to be–"
